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‘Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the town

Motorists were driving

Round and around.

Finally complete, they could only wonder

Why this roundabout so simple

Could be such a blunder.

They built one on I-40, just a few miles away

How long did it take them, maybe a day?

Problems here they told us, and problems there

By golly, we’ve got problems, everywhere.

No, not August or September, or even October.

We’ll not be done, until we decide the work is over.

Then one day, I heard such a clatter

I raced from Hospital Street

To see what was the matter.

There they were, going round and around

Vehicles in the roundabout, nowhere bound.

I just had to come, I just had to see

But where do I exit, too many choices for me.

Then, what does my wandering mind hear

More minions in offices, plotting I fear.

They’re platting too, and planning on paper

More roundabouts here, is their primary caper.

Farmington Road and US 158,

That would be a great notion

To keep all this traffic, in perpetual motion.

Oh, but then I see them, and they become clear

It must be Santa, and all his reindeer.

“Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer

   and Vixen!

On Comet! On Cupid! On Donder and Blitzen!

To the top of Miller’s! To the top of Auto Zone!

We’ve got to get through! To reach all those homes!”

So into the new roundabout they flew

With Rudolph leading, casting a red hue.

Which way do I turn, which way do I go?

Poor Rudolph was country, he didn’t know.

So he took a right turn, thank goodness they say

But he was going too fast, for a fully loaded sleigh.

The toys they rattled, all gathered in a cluster

As Santa held on, for all he could muster.

Rudolph charged on, his nostrils getting wetter

Going around and around, not knowing any better.

Then Santa yelled “Turn right, turn right I say”

And Rudolph veered, on that very day.

Then Santa winked, and twisted his head

To let us all know, we have nothing to dread.

He said not a word, but went straight to his work

And filled all the stockings, and turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard his exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night.”

– Mike Barnhardt